


Reliance

by Tori Crash (Torious_Crash)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Beta Wanted, F/F, Female-Centric, Femslash, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-05-03 18:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5302982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torious_Crash/pseuds/Tori%20Crash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the way back from a not-so-routine negotiation, Seven and Janeway find themselves swept away by an energy wave and dumped into a rapidly decaying planetary orbit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dangerous spacial phenomenon 289635

**Author's Note:**

> Story Notes: This story takes place somewhere in the seventh, I haven't really decided where exactly, but right before Endgame wouldn't be wrong. You might also notice that I'm using a species names from other sci-fi works, Babylon 5 in this case, some might call this lazy, I call it homage. It's also kinda fun to reference other universes, but this piece is in no way a cross-fic, it's all Star Trek.
> 
> Technobabble alert: I'm a major Star Trek nerd, and a nerd all around, so beware of copious amounts of scientific jargon and sci-fi gobbledigook.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Power virtual gone, engines mostly disable, and careening toward an unknown planet's surface, Seven and Janeway struggle to crash-land without killing themselves.

The Delta Flyer streaked across the pin pricked blackness of space. It's two occupants, Captain Kathryn Janeway, and Seven of Nine, were returning to Voyager from a successful diplomatic mission with the Vorlon. The perpetually suited aliens, had specific demands. Yes, that's how Janeway was going to word it in her report: The Vorlons had specific demands.

They only allowed Seven, apparently because she was cybernetically enhanced, herself, because she was captain, and no one else, not even in orbit. Of course Tuvok and Chakotay protested immediately, but the Vorlons had up-to-date data on their next three thousand light years of travel. That information was worth almost any price, even the risk of the ship's Captain and its ex-borg. The Vorlon however, didn't seem to want anything, they just politely interrogated the two humans for days about mostly inconsequential subjects, like Earth's weather. Occasionally, they'd make some strange comment regarding some piece of information.

The 'negotiations', if she could call them that, went back and forth in that way until for seemingly no reason, one of the Vorlons handed over a replica of Voyager's data PADDs with all the information they could want on it. Janeway tried to compensate them, but they refused to even speak on the subject. Quite literally. They'd give their odd replies to just about everything else, but on the subject of what they wanted in return, they acted like neither Seven or Janeway had spoken.

Seven looked up from the engineering station, steadfastly refusing to sigh at the Captain's random sarcastic hums and exasperated grunts. "Continuing to analyze Vorlon behaviour will serve no purpose."

"I just don't get it Seven," she shook her head, "why keep us there, why make us small talk for a week if they were going to just hand the information over. And where the hell did they get the pattern for one of our data PADDs. I didn't even see anything that look more technological than wall coverings and tables."

"As I stated before Captain, the Vorlon are a mystery to every species the borg have assimilated who have encountered them, and despite concerted effort to find them, the collective never has. Including, on the planet they currently inhabit."

Janeway rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, that's all well and good, but why. Why everything. Nothing about them makes a lick of sense-"

"Captain," Seven interrupted, "would it be prudent for me to program the computer to respond to your repeated inquirers in my voice so that you may ask your questions infinitum?"

Turning sharply from the pilot's seat, Janeway glared at the ex-borg. "I'd congratulate you for regaining the human trait of sarcasm, if it wasn't also annoyingly directed at your Captain."

"Then perhaps you should congratulate *the Captain* for prompting me to regain the trait of exasperation."

"Well," Janeway smirked as she turned back to the controls, "there's something."

The moment of silence stretched on, every nanosecond adding a tiny amount to Seven's anxiety as she waited for the inevitable.

"Why would they waste their own time like that!?"

"Captain," Seven's voice nearly raised with her annoyance, "please desist or deactivate me."

Janeway turned to the Young Woman again. "Are you telling me to shut-up or kill you?"

"Please."

She opened her mouth to retort, or reprimand, but before she could, every sensor alarm began to blare.

"I'm detecting a wave front containing a high concentration of nadion particles at bearing zero nine three mark two four."

"I'm also getting spacial compression," Janeway added.

"Confirmed. The phenomenon is travelling at warp nine-point-one-eight."

"No shock wave can travel that fast Seven."

"Normally I would agree Captain, however, in this instance I would advise bracing for impact."

"I can't get ahead of it." Janeway's fingers flew feverishly over the controls.

"Thirty seconds to impact." Seven's posture straightened impossibly further. "I'm detecting debris within the wave front."

"Damn it! This is going to hurt!"

"Securing warp core."

"Taking weapons and transporter offline."

"Rerouting all available power to shields."

"Isolating back-ups."

"Five seconds!" Seven squeezed her eyes shut and gripped her armrests to breaking as fear exploded in her chest.

"Hold on!"

The ship jolted to the side, wrenching the women in the opposite direction and setting off a myriad of explosions all over the cabin. Then they began to roll, spinning and tumbling in the wave's violence, but just as suddenly as it came, the event travelled on without them.

Janeway tapped at the darkened controls and fiddled with Tom's blasted physical ones. "I'm not getting anything from the helm."

The cabin was filled with the sounds of short circuits, and something venting somewhere, but no alarms, no hum of machinery. And no reply.

Janeway gasped as she turned to check on Seven. The entire engineering console was destroyed, and in front of it, the Young Woman sat with pieces of transparent aluminum and duranium and god knows what else, sticking out of her body.

"Seven, can you hear me." Janeway bolted out of her chair and over to the ex-borg; then pressed her fingers into the Woman's jugular.

She felt a throb, but she could now also see that Seven's head had been hit so hard by something, that it tore the casing off her optical implant. Carefully, she touched a jagged piece of transparency embedded in the ex-borg's arm, trying to judge how deep it was, and thankfully, it was shallow enough that the slight pressure dislodged it, sending it tumbling to the ground. She grabbed a tricorder and scanned Seven's wounds, pulling the shrapnel it told her was safe to as she went.

"Captain." The Borg began to stir.

"Shh," Janeway tried to sooth, "it's alright, just relax, let me treat you."

"No Captain, the planet."

Planet!? Janeway whirled to the forward port, but saw nothing, only the stars slowly spinning in front of them. After a moment of intense staring, the edge of an atmosphere grazed the side of the window, blue, with very little curve. It was a big damn planet.

"The wave undoubtedly carried us several light-years, we were not near a system at time of impact."

"Stop fussing Seven." Janeway continued her treatment.

"Borg do not 'fuss', and you must take action before we enter the atmosphere."

"I'm not going to be able to get the manoeuvring thrusters online in time without your help."

Seven tried to move her sluggish arms. "I estimate fifteen minutes before entry."

"Then we'll have ten to regain control," Janeway replied confidently as she pressed a hypo to the other Woman's neck. "You're nanoprobes are already responding. No broken bones, minor hematoma to chest and arms, no damage to eardrums, eyes, lungs." She paused. "But I'm detecting abnormal readings in your cranial implant."

Seven studied the readout, struggling to focus on the data. "It is not a major concern Captain. Call it, a borg concussion."

"You don't seem to be suffering concussion in your organic brain. Do you think you can stand?"

"Perhaps not well, but I believe I can crawl."

Janeway took a deep breath, hating with every fibre in her being at having to do this. "Okay Seven, I need you to get me control over the chemical reaction thrusters."

"Yes Captain."

"I'm going to go aft for a minute to eject the anti-matter tanks and warp core; then I'll come back and work on the PPTs."

Seven nodded and let the Captain help her to the control systems where they both took off the panel. Then, she focused with all her borg willpower on the conduits and circuits in front of her.

"We're not going to try for main power at this point," Janeway stated as she walked back through the cabin door, "we just need to soften the impact."

"Understood. I believe I can force the CRTs to fire at will, however, I do not believe we have the means to control them without physically manipulating the relays."

"Can you route control to a tricorder?"

"Crude," Seven's exposed implant lifted, "but effective."

"Good, here." Janeway pressed the device to Seven's side.

"You will have rudimentary manoeuvring in two point five minutes."

Janeway looked to the view port again, this time the whole of the planet rolled in front of it. Subconsciously she began to pick out landing spots, areas were they might be able to slide across the surface without taking critical damage. Desert or snow would be the easiest on the Flyer, they'd stay in one piece the longest, but afterwards they'd freeze or cook to death. Water might be okay if they hit at a shallow enough angle, but too far from shore and they'd drown. A wooded area might thrash the shuttle apart, but it'd be their best chance for survival after smash-down.

"I think we're going to need to rely on atmosphere for most of our breaking."

"Agreed," Seven's voice was muted from within the compartment. "However, I recommend aiming for the heavily forested area in the northwest of the larger continent in the northern hemisphere. I calculate that we will have sufficient thrust for a thirty-nine degree rapid decay orbital arch."

"Seven, how the hell can you tell planetary orientation without sensors."

"There's currently an aurora effect in the southern hemisphere, and Starfleet protocol dictates that without magnetic polarization readings, the hemisphere with a highest concentration of land mass is to be considered north."

Janeway grumbled as she stuck her head back into her own service panel. Sometimes Seven reminded her way too much of Phoebe, forever the gifted show off.

"I've completed the modifications."

"Good." She paused a moment, torn between piloting herself and leaving it to Seven who'd be far more capable of plotting their course while blind. "Bring us down, best possible angle."

The stars began to slow their relentless drift; then the ship started vibrating as the rockets burned. Without a tricorder, Janeway was blind, staring out into the galaxy and away from the planet's surface. Being out of control wasn't something she particularly liked, but she was also barely a mediocre pilot, and flying on limited sensor readings was asking for trouble. Seven was capable, and she trusted her, even with a 'borg concussion'.

"How's your head?"

"Functioning adequately at the moment," Seven replied evenly. "However I believe it may be necessary for you to take over during visual approach."

Janeway ripped herself from her compartment, more than a little concern gnawing at her stomach. "Why?"

"I'm having moderate difficulty with depth perception and coordination. My modifications were greatly inefficient, I should have completed them in less than one minute."

"Seven, stop being so hard on yourself." Shaking her head, Janeway went back to her repairs.

"As you demand. Our entry time will now be approximately eight minutes."

"I can't get the plasmonic reactors to light."

"I do not believe we have sufficient time or power to reactivate the plasma pulse thrusters."

"Damn it," Janeway hit a power modulator with her spanner, "everything else is routed. I just need one point twenty-one kilowatts to ignite the goddamn gas."

"You would require approximately thirteen minutes to modify a hand phaser, warm the reaction chamber while charging the magnetic constrictors-"

"Seven," she cut the ex-borg off, "it's eight to entry, how long until impact."

"My calculations may not be entirely correct."

"Guess Seven."

"Seven minutes thirty seconds until atmosphere, six minutes to surface if the planet's atmosphere is comparable to earth's."

"Throw me a phaser."

"You have not sufficient time." Seven tossed the weapon, soon to be tool, onto the deck next to the Captain.

"Hope springs eternal." Janeway grabbed it and started ripping off the emitter. "How's your head, truthfully."

"I'm feeling only a slight reduction in my physical capabilities, however, my advanced cognitive functions as well as my eyesight are moderately impaired." Seven scowled like she'd just sucked a lemon. "I believe 'dizzy' would not be an entirely inappropriate term at the moment."

"Charging field emitters."

"Understood. I will create a secondary algorithm to stabilize our flight path should you be able to activate the engines."

"Fingers crossed."

Seven look to the Captain's posterior. "Why would I do so now? I require my hands to operate these controls."

"Now's not the time for jokes," Janeway huffed. "I'm going to ignite the gas with cold reaction chambers."

"Our thrust will be heavily contaminated until optimal temperature is achieved."

"I know, but it'll give us enough power to run the helm, and hopefully enough retro to slow us to insane speeds instead of suicidal."

"Perhaps." Seven continued to stare at the Captain's behind while she contemplated the possibility of non-existence. "Entry in one minute, reorienting for ventral friction breaking."

"Constrictors at 20 percent."

The borg nodded despite the two not being able to see one another, her thoughts focused on something other than her surroundings. Would she miss the Captain in death? Would she survive while the Captain did not? Would the Captain parish on the planet's surface without Seven's assistance? She had no ability to obtain answers for those questions, or to the dozens of others floating in her mind.

She looked to the forward port when the Flyer began to shake violently. They had six minutes until their lives met a juncture, non-existence, or survival, most likely agonizing pain, or nothing. But this was not the first time Seven had faced a moment such as this, her life seemed far more precarious with Voyager than with the borg, yet, this time she didn't feel the same level of fear she had the previous occasions and she wondered why. She looked back to the Captain, hidden as she was from the waste up.

"Captain," she waited a moment. "I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for my individuality thus far. I believe I have enjoyed freedom and my daily duties. I also appreciate the trust you have displayed toward me."

At that moment the ship shuddered, the helm came to life, and a warning alarm began to blare.

"Ye of little faith," Janeway flatly stated as she pulled herself from the access panel and hurried to the pilot's chair.

"It is not a lack of faith Captain, I am simply stating the truth."

"You're making peace Seven, and I'd rather you reserved that for when we're about to die."

Despite not being able to see the other woman, Seven turn toward the front of the ship. "Survival is not guaranteed, but I am not stating these facts as a form of death ritual-"

"Yes you are," Janeway cut her off, "even if you don't realize it."

"I am not."

"We'll argue abut this when we're on the ground."

Seven refocused on her readout. "Four minutes until... 'landing'."

"Can you calculate the safest flight path?"

"I cannot. All variations are equally perilous."

Janeway tried not to sound testy. "Just give me something with a level descent during the last fifty meters."

"As you wish." Seven entered the calculations. "We have now slowed to eight hundred meters per second."

"We'll slow to about two or three hundred kph just before touch down. Try to strap yourself into tactical."

"Yes Captain."

Their deceleration was insufficient, the Delta Flyer would be heavily damaged by the trees and surface, their harnesses would fail, the remainder of the user control surfaces would break apart and strike them.

"Captain-"

"Not now Seven," Janeway barked, "you can continue with your 'death ritual' in a few minutes."

"We will impact the surface before then."

"Just give me our status Seven."

The borg's jaw tightened, her head raised slightly. The human penchant for hope was completely illogical. "Velocity two hundred eighty meters per second, altitude fifty thousand meters relative, two thousand meters to impact zone, outer hull temperature unknown. There are signs of critical metallurgic fatigue and failure however."

"Vent primary and secondary plasma conduits."

Seven tried to open the vents, but they wouldn't, she tried detonating the explosive bolts holding them in place, but they didn't respond; then she tried routing the plasma through the impulse engines, but the pressure remained steady.

"Unable to comply, systems not responding."

"Keep trying Seven."

"I am doing so Captain, but I am unable to force the EPS grid to purge. Impact in two minutes, Velocity one hundred fifty meters per second, altitude twenty thousand meters relative."

"I'm sorry Seven, I don't mean to snap at you. I do trust you and I've appreciated everything you've done for the ship and crew. The mutara class nebula, the picture plant, our borg encounters, everything. We'd be so much worse off without you Seven. "

"We have disagreed often, but I have always taken note of your prospective, one minute thirty seconds."

"I know Seven, I know. You've made me rethink so much, you've made me stop and reconsider myself and why I do things. I'm a better person because of you."

"And I am an individual because of you Captain, one minute fifteen."

"We're going to make it Seven, just keep the thrusters online."

The blotch of bushy green grew larger and larger in the view port, the metal groaning and whining from the air friction, but their momentum continued to drop, and the ship stayed in one piece. They were going to do this, they were going to crash and walk away, Kathryn just knew they were. They'd come so far, travelled further then any starship, made more first contacts than any other crew, took back one of their own from the borg, they were the modern equivalent of super heroes, and heroes almost never died, they persevered, they over came. They had to survive so that Kathryn could get her crew to earth and take Seven to see her home and mother.

"Thirty seconds."

The universe wasn't always fair, but it wasn't goddamn horrible, it wouldn't kill them now, not now.

"Twenty-five."

There was so much Kathryn wanted to show Seven, so many experiences the young woman hadn't had yet.

"Twenty seconds; Captain I care about you a great deal."

A freak energy wave and an errant planet was not going to take them out.

"Your existence is required for my continued functionality, fifteen seconds."

"We're going to make it Seven." They had too.

"There is no other I would wish to spend my life with; ten seconds."

Janeway drove the nose up just as the tree tops began striking the bottom of the hull.

"All diagnostics on port nacelle have failed, detachment imminent, five seconds."

Kathryn couldn't see the ground, only rapidly vibrating clouds and blue sky. There wasn't any do or die anymore, just wait and see.

The nose pitched sharply down filling the view port with brown and green; then, it dove even further, flipping them god knows how fast. The g-force was unbearable, seeping blackness into Kathryn’s vision and making her chest feel like the shuttle was sitting on top of her instead of breaking up around. The belly smashed back into the surface sending bone crushing pain up her spine and rattling her brain in her skull.

"I love you too Seven."

Then the blackness was complete, all enveloping. The pain, gone.


	2. If It Isn't One Thing, It's Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoever said 'any landing you can walk away from, is a good one', was a damn fool in Janeway's opinion. Obviously whoever did, never had a reenforcing bar stabbed threw their arm while being shaken up like a Martini.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter notes: I've been having some difficulty with this piece. At first, I was debating weather or not to end it at the first chapter, but, I've never received so many comments on a story before, and, well, I just can't say no when I know readers want more. I'd like to think that those reading this think me a good writer, but I know that it has more to do with this being a Janeway/Seven story. I'm a 'struggling to be decent' writer at best.
> 
> One difficulty I've had is finding a voice for the narrator. But I think I've settled on the Star Trek universe's computer combining all the logs of those involved; then crafting an interesting story through whatever complex algorithm Starfleet Engineers came up with when they weren't turning rocks into transporters.
> 
> The second, more detrimental difficulty I'm having is Janeway. I'm afraid I really don't know who she is. On Voyager her character was really rather inconsistent, but I don't blame Mulgrew or the writers for that. It's well documented that the Studio was skittish about having a woman as the Captain, and even had a male replacement lined up right up until air. In my opinion, Kate Mulgrew did an excellent job of portraying whatever flavour they wanted her to that week. Even Jeri Taylor's book Mosaic, which by the way is where Janeway's dream comes from, had her behaving in a way that I'd call inconsistent for a 24th century woman. Gina Dartt (http://users.eastlink.ca/~ginadartt/) arguably has one of the best portrayals of Janeway around, but I don't want to be a copy cat, I want this Janeway to be believable and consistent with the show, but I also want her to be mine. I'm not sure I can do that though.
> 
> Anyways, emotional decompression done. Thank you to everyone who's read so far, endless gratitude to those who've commented, and shameless begging for more of both. And just so's everyone will know, I'm not abandoning my other stories, nor will I give up on this one if I'm focusing on one of the others.

The world floated around Kathryn's consciousness, dark, mysterious, misshapen, as she stood in the corridor. No, as she stood in the hallway. Yes, it was the hallway in 'the house', her dreamscaped house of memories that'd been reoccurring since she was a child. But why was she standing within it's mildly disturbing walls now? What could she be locking away from herself that her subconscious both wanted, and didn't want her to see?

It was ridiculous, spring cleaning her mind when she had more important things to do, she'd dealt with her psychological hiccups years ago. After planet Sizzle and the Kazon attack, the dream hadn't returned, she'd come to terms with her hauntings, put them in their proper place, and tried to move on. What could possibly be on her mind to bring her back here now?

She willed the door not to be locked as she moved toward it. It didn't need to be cleaned, it was part of herself, of her psyche. It was just some facet or memory she'd rather forget, something that she was repressing, something she didn't really want to face. But she'd face it, damn her procrastinations. If everything she'd been through hadn't taught her anything else, it taught her that putting things off or denying herself, only led to them gnawing at her later.

Grabbing the knob, she repeated the words to herself, 'The door will be unlocked, it *will* be unlocked'. She *will* open it and deal with whatever was on the other side. Then she'd wake up, put it in her personal log, write her mother and sister a letter about it; then move on. Whatever it was, she'd already lived through it once, one more time wasn't going to be any worse.

Kathryn pulled at the door, ripping it open like a scab of epidermal glue, and felt the universe claw its way into her skull, pain and haze and disorientation tearing into every fibre of her being. From somewhere distant, she could hear the tripping beeps of a tricorder alarm, from her right forearm, she felt a crippling pressure that made moving her fingers impossible, from her upper abdomen, the unmistakable ache of bruised or cracked ribs, and from her mouth, the distinct flourish of copper.

Then the memory slammed into her forefront, much like the Delta Flyer had slammed into this god forsaken planet. Both she and the shuttle were likely in pretty bad shape, but at least they were both in one piece.

"Seven," her voice came out as barely a strangled whisper. "Seven," she tried again, and ended up coughing uncontrollably for her trouble.

Holding her breath with all her might, Janeway willed her airway to relax, each contained hack blasting at her insides, but eventually, the spasm stilled, and she let her swirling mind have its desperately needed oxygen.

Every breath burned in her mouth and throat like sucking hot plasma, and the flimsy shields of her eyelids didn't do a goddamn to stop the blinding red blackness from filling her vision, or stopped her head from pounding. She was beyond miserable, her body not giving her one goddamn reason not to slip back into unconsciousness, but, she was angry. Her quickly fading dream, the umpteenth spatial anomaly that through her regularly scheduled plans for a loop, her apparent injuries, they all melted together and stuck to her skin like oil, like all her negativity was being squeezed through her pores.

With those feelings bubbling up from somewhere in her centre, frothing and twisting into a directionless rage, and driving her to ignore every warning sign her battered carcase was throwing at her, she reached up with her good hand, physically pushed an eye open, and when it tried to spasm shut, shoved harder. Then, she waited the long irretrievable seconds it took for her sight to adjust, and slowly, too goddamn slowly, the helm came into focus.

Thankfully, it wasn't covered in her blood, but what was causing the debilitating throbbing pain in her arm, was just as horrid as that would have been. A thick circular metal cross-brace impaled clean through her arm just aft of her distal radioulnar.

She stared at it for a moment, knowing she should feel some kind of panic, but really, all she could manage was more boiling fury, and without thinking it completely through, she placed the balls of both her injured and functioning hand against the edge of her station, and pushed.

Tortured wails filled the cabin as she unleashed her temper on the bent pilot's chair, and her lungs tried to spasm again as she forced millimetres of space between herself and the trap. But her breath exploded from her mouth far too quickly for it to catch. Her cries of indignation even managed to maintain themselves on each inhale, before being vomited from her lungs once more.

Seconds, or minutes, or goddamn hours passed before she could jam her knees between herself and the console. As she did, the blinding stab of her ribs took the place of the searing pressure in her arm. But she pushed even harder, her pain and fury venting from her chest as she kept raging against her prison. Backing down now, showing one tiny iota of weakness, wasn't an option. A breather would just be an opportunity for death to take advantage of the circumstances. No, she needed out, she needed resources, she needed to keep going. She needed to get to Seven.

Finally, she managed enough room to unbuckle her safety harness and flop out onto the floor. But again, she couldn't give into her body's needs, to its screaming for rest, she had priorities. Crawling, mostly dragging, she made her way up the ramp and to Seven's side. The ex-borg's chair had been snapped from its base, dumping the Young Woman face first onto the ground, and Janeway had to resist the urge to immediately check on her, a pulse would do Seven little good if the ship was on the verge of exploding.

Instead, she grabbed the incessantly beeping tricorder Seven had modified, and saw that it was still linked into the Flyer's systems. It told her that the hand phaser she'd rigged was still powering the flight computer, but little to nothing else was left of the ship. The port nacelle was gone, the ventral thrusters crushed beyond repair, and the deflector was smashed to hell. The sensors, computer core, bussard collectors, half the impulse engines, they weren't just damaged, they were simply not there any more. And to make matters worse, the shuttle was venting plasma. Saying that they weren't doing well, would've been the understatement of the millennium.

"Seven." Janeway placed her fingers against the Young Woman's neck, and took a relieved breath at the strong throb there. "Seven, we need to evac, the air's going to be critically toxic in a few minutes."

The ex-borg didn't move, didn't make a sound, didn't give one goddamn sign that her brain wasn't completely destroyed and her implants were only keeping her body alive.

Slightly alarmed by the thought, Kathryn searched the mess that was formally the Flyer's cabin, looking for another tricorder, a med-kit, anything. She needed to stabilize herself, assess Seven's injuries, get the Young Woman out of the shuttle, and construct a sled or something so that she could high tail them out of there. Time was short, the leak could ignite something, if it did, it'd quickly rupture the deuterium tanks, and they'd need to be at least a kilometre away from the ship by then, or they'd be vaporized.

An instant later, she found an EMK sitting precariously atop the aft station and immediately injected herself with adrenalin and pain killers. Next, she cut the ends off her new little accessory, pulling it out was out of the question at the moment; then, she scanned Seven. But while the Young Woman's body was intact with no greater injury than bruises, her cranial implant was fluctuating wildly. It'd stabilize itself eventually, she hoped, but until then, Seven couldn't be woken.

"Alright," she addressed the unconscious Woman, "you're alright."

Janeway had no idea if Seven could actually hear her, but it'd be just like the ex-borg to be completely aware of her surroundings while being utterly unable to interact with them.

"I'm going to push your chair over now Seven and get you out of there. Okay?"

'A rhetorical question Captain'. She could almost hear the words floating in the air as she braced her shoulder against the offending fixture. Then she once again pushed with all her might, before realizing she'd used her right, damaged side. The pain was once again mind numbing, filling her vision with black, but it took far less effort to free Seven from her trap then it had her own.

Scanning the ex-borg once again, she continued the one sided conversation. "Thankfully same as before. No broken bones, very minor lacerations, a handful a bruises, but, your so called borg concussion, if it can so be called," she smirked at her own very bad joke, and at the unwavering exasperated stare she imagined Seven would be wearing, "is a lot worse. It's gotten better in just the last few seconds, so you should be regaining consciousness in a few minutes."

Janeway carefully began undoing the Woman's safety harness. "But you could use a regeneration cycle." Eased her carefully to the floor. "You could probably use more regeneration in general." Then forced herself from the floor and stumbled to the hatch. "Yes, yes, I already know it's the pot calling the kettle black, but it's also Captain's prerogative."

The air lock controls were just as dark as everything else on the damnable ship. "The pot calling the kettle black is a polite way of saying I'm being a hypocrite." She pulled the panel off to access the emergency release. "Well, not really, but close enough." But the door didn't budge. It didn't even make a goddamn sound.

"Insipid, useless," Janeway growled as she swooned a little. She tried the explosive decoupler. Nothing. "Remind me to light a fire under Paris about redesigning this 'hot rod' when we get beck to the ship. The crew gets trapped in here way too often for my liking."

Slowly, she squatted down in front of the compartment she'd been working on before the crash. "Actually Seven, if you could come up with a design yourself for the hatches and vents, it'd probably be faster, not to mention more efficient." Then ripped the modified hand phaser out of it.

Her dizziness and fatigue were worsening, but she didn't have a choice, she had to keep moving, Seven and her own lives were on the line. "Probably be a good idea if you worked on the chairs too."

She reinstalled the impromptu power supply into the door controls. "Hold tight Seven, I'm going to blow the air lock." Waited a beat. "Three. Two. One."

The moment Janeway pressed the fire button, the inner hatch violently jerked into the wall while the outer one exploded off the hull.

"That's a lot more entertaining during tests." She forced the door the rest of the way open; then moved to position herself to drag the ex-borg off the ship. "Human's just like explosions Seven. It's the psychology of experiencing something that should cause fear and shock, but knowing your completely safe." She wrapped her arms under the other Woman's shoulders and anchored her good hand to her bad arm, but well away from her injury.

"Come on, time to go."

Seven didn't protest, not that she was in a position to, but Kathryn desperately wished she'd at least make a sound. It was unnerving to no end having the ex-borg essentially play dead, and she had to remind herself repeatedly that the borg would consider keeping all non-essential 'equipment' off during repair, efficient, and that Seven was basically fine. Well, not 'fine', but having her cranial implant a little off kilter wasn't life threatening. As long as it was intact, and her nanoprobes were working, it'd fully repair itself relatively quickly, at least, that's what she hoped all those reports on Seven's implants meant.

Once outside, Janeway's heart sank even more, and anxiety bubbled faster from the pit of her being. "Seven, the drive plasma's spraying into the trees, they'll catch soon."

It wouldn't be efficient for a drone to be unaware while repairing itself, she was sure of it, the collective might need it to react to a dangerous situation, and if the Young Woman had retained any positive benefit from her ordeal with the borg, she hoped to hell it was that.

"I'm going to go back in and round up some supplies." Janeway stopped at the hatch and looked to a face that was far too peaceful. "If you feel the urge to get up and give me a hand, please don't hesitate." She ventured inside, continuing to no one in particular, "or, you know, if you feel like fixing the whole damn ship." Because knowing Seven, she'd do exactly that before Janeway even had the chance to find water pouches.

The aft compartment was even more a mess then the cockpit, and the air was already permeated with muons and deuterium oxide vapour. Heat mirages shimmered in front of the port injector controls, the equipment cage had broken open and its contents littered the floor, and the rear hatch was half bent inwards. It'd take a miracle to get the Delta Flyer space-worthy again, that is, if it didn't blow itself into a million little pieces first.

Shaking herself from cataloguing the devastation, Janeway quickly stumbled through the wreckage, shoving aside objects she didn't deem essential. She found an emergency wilderness pack, opened it, shoved an extra tricorder and hand phaser in; then tossed it to the forward door. Next, an empty back pack. This one she filled with water and powdered food rations, and topped it with a tricorder and phaser. Another empty pack. This time an H2O generator, micro nutrient paste replicator, PADDs, tool kits, extra comm badges, several EM collectors, and anything else useful she could fit. And of course, another tricorder and phaser.

She then forced a bunk open, broke the retaining clips, and ripped the gurney out of its frame. Once dragged to her gathered supplies, she tied them to it, grabbed Seven's portable regenerator, a few med-kits, an arm full of uniforms, secured them to the gurney as well, ripped a tether harness off an environmental suit, shouldered it, slung a tactical phaser onto her back, clipped a hand phaser and tricorder to her hip, and wrestled the whole mess outside.

"Okay Seven," Janeway grunted as she used her bad arm as a club to beat the makeshift sled threw the door. "Almost ready to go. I just need to get you settled."

Her right hand was beginning to look like a rubber prop, but she ignored the implication, it didn't matter right now. Instead, she pulled the packs and equipment off the gurney, rolled the ex-borg over, slipped it behind her as closely as possible; then rolled the Young Woman back on top of it.

"I'm going to secure you to the sled now Seven."

Gently, Janeway moved the other Woman's cybernetically enhanced arm out of the way before lacing a tie-down over the ex-borg. On the right side, she threaded the fabric around the frame, on the left, she looped it under and over the metal and through itself; then, tightened the resulting loop over a second tie-down.

"I'm making a quick release so that when you regain consciousness, you can get out as soon as possible." She carefully placed Seven's arm back against her body, slip knotted the locking tie-down to the securing one; then used the ex-borg's wrist to secure it. "Just pull your hand out of the loop; then pull the whole thing until you're freed." 

Next she moved the supplies back onto the gurney, strapping them down between and beside Seven's legs. "Just a few more seconds."

Task completed, she shrugged the tactical phaser off and pulled the tether harness on. "The terrain doesn't look all that rugged." Slung the weapon back over her shoulder. "I'm confident we can get to minimum safe in time." Then clipped the tether to the sled.

She tested the rig, pulling foreword a few feet while watching to make sure nothing fell apart. Pain stung harsher in her ribs, but she ignored that too, it didn't matter either.

Satisfied that everything would hold, and that Seven would be relatively comfortable, Janeway took a steadying breath. "Here we go." Then trudged forward.

Each step was minor agony, each tug at her ribs was stabbing, but she kept moving. She kept placing one foot in-front of the other, kept counting off each step she took, kept adding half a meter for every length, but damn, was it ever slow going, and sweat was already poring down her skin. She wasn't going to make it, she couldn't make it.

"We'll make it Seven, just relax, everything will be okay."

Boot down, shoulders forward, drag. Her vision darkened. Boot down, shoulders forward, drag. She lost all feeling in her injured arm. Boot down, shoulders forward, drag. But that was a blessing in her opinion. Boot down, shoulders forward, drag.

"We're going to make it Seven."

Boot down, shoulders forward, drag. No they weren't, it was hopeless, completely and utterly hopeless, Janeway just didn't have the strength. Boot down, shoulders forward, drag.

"But if you could wake up, give me a hand-"

Boot down, shoulders forward, drag.

"It'd-" She lost her breath, her vision blacked out completely, the world swam.

Half a second later, her micro pass out faded. "We'd have a much-"

She lost breath again, swallowed some air, "larger margin for error."

Boot down, shoulders forward, drag. 'Damn it someone help me', she wailed in her head, tears brimming her lids. Boot down, shoulders forward, drag. 'I can't do this, I'm going to collapse.'

She was almost vertical, almost crawling; then she slipped, fell face first into the dirt, and good god, the moment of rest felt incredible, euphoric, better then the best nap she'd ever taken. But they had to keep going, they were only... She looked back to see how far they'd travelled and almost cried. They weren't even a hundred meters away yet, and damn it, damn it all to hell, the trees near the port nacelle were completely engulfed in flames.

She got back up, dug her foot in, threw her shoulders forward, and dragged the sled. Four more steps, and she slipped again, got up, dug in, threw forward, and dragged. Another slip, another look back.

It wasn't fair, the tops of the trees were catching faster then the trunks had, the leaves must have some kind of oil in them. And they still weren't even a hundred meters away.

"Seven." Kathryn was ready to admit defeat to the Young Woman. "I don't think we're going to make it." But not ready to admit it to the universe.

Another step, another half meter.

"I need you to wake up."

Another slip, but this time something decided to stab her in the knee.

"I need you to get up," she panted, "take the sled," got back up, "and get the hell out of here," but didn't bother to look at what she fell on, "just leave me," could barely see as it was, "not enough time."

Losing consciousness, fire, plasma, deuterium, rupture.

Five steps, slip...

Flyer, engulfed...

Three more, slip...

Fire spreading faster...

Her head was swimming, she couldn't pull any more, they were done. She rolled over, took the tactical phaser from her back, set it to maximum, took aim at the closest tree, and fired. It vaporized in a few seconds. She aimed at the next, fired. Four more, the cell's low energy alarm began to sound. One more, the weapon failed.

Grabbing Seven's tie-down, she dragged herself to the packs, opened one, pulled the hand phaser out, removed its battery, repeated with the tricorder, and took out six more trees. Went to the next bag, only five this time, the next, six again, the ones on her hip, six more.

That was it, her last ditch effort, and it was a waste. She hadn't managed to clear enough space to protect them from the approaching flame, and hadn't given them enough distance to survive the now inevitable explosion. There was no way she could save Seven, she'd failed.

Janeway hit her combadge three times. "Distress... Distress... Distress... Need... Assistance..."

Damn it to hell, this wasn't the way she was supposed to die.

"Dis- tress..."

She was supposed to give her life *saving* her crew, not dieing with one.

"Sorry Seven..."

Especially not this one...

"I tried..."


	3. Ex-Drone Machina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janeway thought she was rescuing Seven from the smashed corpse of the Delta Flyer. Seven however, does not agree with that assessment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize profusely for taking so long to post an update, but, unfortunately, I'm ill. Extremely ill. So Bleh.
> 
> Special Note: I'd like to give special thanks to my betas, Purpely (Not all who wander, are lost), and Nikki (The best teachers are those who show you where to look, but don't tell you what to see), without you, the blood I shed upon my keyboard, would just be a lot of congealed crap. Thank you.

"...I love you too Seven..."

_Smiling at the sentiment, the former drone looked fondly at Kathryn. She felt intoxicated, the world looking as though her enhanced vision was applying the incorrect gamma filter, but it only made her former Captain all the more beautiful. Like an angel rendered in a holodeck. The woman's familiar lopsided grin, her rich red hair, her deep blue-grey eyes, all shone like stellar reflectors. Truly, an aesthetically pleasing sight._

_'I have spectacular news Seven.'_

_The borg's happiness faded. Kathryn always had spectacular news when she had stayed home for an extended time period._

_'Indeed?' Seven was hopeful, but it was unacceptable for the ex-drone not to expect this, to not plan for the eventuality. Some part of herself however, some deeply seeded human desire which survived her assimilation, refused to allow her to contemplate such deficiencies in her mate._

_'I have secured command of a Galaxy class starship being sent on a ten year mission to the Canis Major Dwarf Galaxy."_

_A decade away from her work, her experiments on collective consciousness with the bynars. Her friends. Their daughter's friends. The life that she has built._

_'You will be my Astrometrics Officer, and Annika will have children her age.'_

_Seven and Annika were secondary units in the Janeway collective, ancillary beings whose purpose was to support their centre._

_'Won't that be acceptable Seven?'_

_But no longer. Seven would no longer capitulate to such demands. She would no longer allow Annika to witness one of her parental units subjugating themselves to the other._

_'No Kathryn. I will not comply.'_

_The period of her peak functionality had past, Seven of Nine had aged, but little to nothing else had changed. It was time to continue her life without Kathryn Janeway. It was time for her and her daughter to cease sacrificing their own wants and needs._

_'You have been a poor spouse, and unacceptable mother. You often speak of how unsatisfactory your relationship was with your father, and yet, you treat Annika with the same disregard.'_

_'You will both be aboard ship Seven, everything will be different.'_

_'Will it Kathryn? Or is it much more likely that it will be similar to Voyager.'_

_'Seven-'_

_'Be silent Kathryn Janeway!' her voice raised, her heart rate accelerated. 'You have squandered the acceptability of your justifications! You have treated myself and your daughter as nothing more than fixtures in your life for far too long. It is your desire to explore the universe, not ours, it is your desire to command others, not ours. And what, Kathryn, does this say about your deeply flawed personality that you feel that you are required to exert control over others?'_

_'Seven, it is not like that-'_

_'I AM NOT YOUR DRONE! I am not as naive as I had been on Voyager! And that does not justify your assumption that I was vestal. I foolishly held hope that my patience and love for you would allow you to move beyond your apprehension and inability to commit.'_

_With the drive for violence stinging her hands, Seven hefted Annika into her arms despite her child's advanced development, and walked out of the door._

_'You may continue to be Captain Janeway. Kathryn, never existed!'_

 

Seven awoke, the sense of being trapped flooding her mind. She was paralysed, her cortical array offline. She was cut off from the rest of the universe and trapped within her own thoughts, but this did not cause the borg panic, though it was discomforting, she knew that her nodes would soon realign, it would only take time.

But the anger from her concussion induced dream, followed her into conscious thought. The Captain had professed to love her during the impact, and the fact that she would do so in the instant before probable death, only proved Seven's prior conclusions. The Captain would deflect, refuse, and disconnect from her emotions. Only when there was nothing left which she believed she could lose, only when their would be no consequences, did the Captain allow herself to express her desires.

'Unacceptable! Insufficient!' Seven fumed in her mind. She would not comply with such selfishness. She would not allow the Captain to make such a statement without retaliation. And the ex-drone would absolutely not pursue the other woman. 'Absolutely not!'

A tricorder alarm drew Seven's focus. Her auditory neural pathways had repaired, or rerouted themselves, but that fact was not comforting however, as the alarm could only be coming from the tricorder she had modified. And by the slowly increasing tempo, their opportunity to affect repairs, was diminishing.

It was highly probable that it was a plasma leak. Their inability to purge the EPS grid before entering the atmosphere, would have made it very likely that the impact would cause a rupture. However, the warp core had been ejected. All either herself or the Captain needed to do to rectify the situation, was open the drive conduits' flow restrictors and vent the plasma.

"Seven..." the Captain sounded weak, injured. "Seven-"

The borg again tried to move, but no part of her body would respond. She couldn't even change the rate of her breathing. She was trapped listening to her Captain cough uncontrollably. Then, when a sudden silence filled the shuttle, Seven lost her sense of control. She fought against the utter lack of input from her cortical array, throwing command after command at her muted implant. But after a few moments, the Captain's breathing returned, and her mind marginally relaxed. Her anger however, grew exponentially.

'Unacceptable!' she again raged, 'insufficient! You will desist in causing me panic Captain! And you will cease holding your breath when your body is in distress!'

Before her thought could fully form in her mind, screams echoed off the cabin walls, and once again, Seven was helpless to do anything but listen. She was desperate to reactivate her motor cortex, and began blindly issuing more dangerous commands to her implants. If they *were* connected to her prefrontal node, she would be doing permanent damage.

The agony continued for forty-six seconds, without a break, without a moment's hesitation in the Captain's agony. Seven felt the need to cry, to express the emotions stifled within herself. It was unbearable, and she once again cursed her humanity, her inability to properly control her shifting feelings.

A thud, and another corresponding silence from her Captain. But, at the same moment, Seven's central control node came back online, giving her an avenue of resistance. She immediately began initiating a myriad of directives:

**'Direct nanoprobe oxygenation, destructive disassembly of fat reserves, strip sodium and potassium ions from muscle cells, raise acetylcholine levels, divert blood-flow from digestive tract'**

The droning chorus of the Collective echoed in her lone voice, as her implants complied to her commands and began consuming her organic resources to power her cybernetic ones. Despite the Captain's unacceptable behaviour, her survival was paramount. No matter how much Seven disliked it, the woman *was* the centre of her collective, and her loss would be too great for the borg to suitably bear.

The rustle of clothing, manipulation of the modified tricorder, and steady breaths nearer to herself, informed Seven of Nine that Kathryn Janeway's pension for illogical behaviour, remained fully intact.

"Seven? Seven, we need to evac, the air's going to be critically toxic in a few minutes."

The borg's thought processes stalled for a moment. 'Why would we be required to evacuate Captain? If the control system will not function, it would be a trivial matter to phaser a hole into the port and starboard drive isolators-'

The sound of a hypospray momentarily distracted Seven from her thoughts. Carefully, she listened for the Captain's movements. Her auditory algorithms detected little which was intelligible for two point one seconds; then, the sound of a laser scalpel, another four point two seconds, and she felt the sensation of a medical scan.

"Alright. You're alright."

'I am well aware of this Captain,' Seven was becoming annoyed. 'I do not require the readings from my implants confirmed. I require new data. You must survey the Delta Flyer. I cannot build Hypotheses without suitable information.'

"I'm going to push your chair over now Seven and get you out of there. Okay?"

'Irrelevant! The warp core chamber is empty. If you breach the valves, the plasma grid would be suitably purged in approximately two minutes eighteen seconds-" She felt herself shift, and the pressure on her head release. 'We are not in critical danger Captain! We will be in critical danger if you continue to ignore the situation at hand!'

"Thankfully same as before."

'I am perfectly capable of self repair! Unlike an inefficient, unnamed Starfleet Captain!'

"No broken bones, very minor lacerations, a handful of bruises, but, your so called borg concussion, if it can so be called, is a lot worse."

'If you meant the statement to be humorous Captain, you failed.'

"It's gotten better in just the last few seconds, so you should be regaining consciousness in a few minutes."

Seven wondered if humans possessed genetically encoded instructions for stating the obvious.

"But you could use a regeneration cycle." The Captain began to undo the borg's harness. "You could probably use more regeneration in general."

'*You* require greater amounts of regeneration Captain.' Seven felt indignant. 'And a substantial reduction in your caffeine intake.'

"Yes, yes, I already know it's the pot calling the kettle black, but it's also Captain's prerogative."

'Of course it is Captain. Any illogical, manipulative, or meddlesome action taken on your part is always, 'the Captain's prerogative'.'

"The pot calling the kettle black is a polite way of saying I'm being a hypocrite."

Seven of Nine, former tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix One, did not need definitions to insufficient human colloquialisms...

"Well, not really, but close enough."

She needed the Captain to be silent. Her head ached, her muscles were electrifying her nervous system, and the toxins from the cellular deconstruction, were being dumped into her dormant stomach. She felt unwell. But why didn't the Captain see that on her tricorder scan? Was the other woman suffering something more serious than Seven suspected?

"Insipid, useless."

The Captain's outburst sent a chill of anxiety down Seven's spine.

"Remind me to light a fire under Paris about redesigning this 'hot rod' when we get back to the ship. The crew gets trapped in here way too often for my liking."

The Captain's neurology was not functioning correctly...

"Actually Seven, if you could come up with a design yourself for the hatches and vents, it'd probably be faster, not to mention more efficient."

She wasn't properly utilizing her time, even for this 'rescue'.

"Probably be a good idea if you worked on the chairs too."

Panic flooded the borg to her core. 'The Captain will not vent the plasma...'

"Hold tight Seven, I'm going to blow the airlock..."

A flurry of new commands flowed through the ex-drone's systems:

**'Deactivate kidney function, reroute ninety percent of nanoprobes to neurological cross-link reconstruction, ignore cybernetic imbalance, deactivate endocrine system'.**

"Three. Two. One." Seven hardly notice the explosion, but continued to note every inflection of every syllable of the Captain's words as she continued. "That's a lot more entertaining during tests."

'Captain,' the borg's mind raced, 'if you do not attempt to salvage the Delta Flyer, we may be trapped.'

"Human's just like explosions Seven."

'The wave-front was travelling at warp nine point one eight-'

"It's the psychology of experiencing something that should cause fear and shock, but knowing you're completely safe."

'The transfer of velocity to the Delta Flyer would have been greater than ninety percent...'

"Come on, time to go."

Seven felt herself being dragged, but ignored it, continuing her unspoken pleas to the other woman. 'I recorded two minutes of travel, an unknown amount while unconscious...'

"Seven, the drive plasma's spraying into the trees, they'll catch soon."

The sensation of needing to cry returned. There was no way to communicate with the Captain, no way to redirect her attention to the correct course of action. Despite diverting as much of her resources to repairing her paralysis as possible, she would not regain control of her body in time.

"I'm going to go back in and round up some supplies."

'Please Captain,' Seven begged, illogically hoping the other woman would hear. 'Please. I apologize for being angry and for causing you discomfort. Please. Please utilize a phaser to destroy the drive isolators.'

"If you feel the urge to get up and give me a hand, please don't hesitate."

Seven would, if she could.

"Or, you know, if you feel like fixing the whole damn ship."

The borg couldn't bring herself to feel upset by the Captain's deceptively derogatory comment. Instead, she utilized her limited senses to carefully analyze her surroundings, and despite not being able to breath deeply, she could smell a compound similar to eucalyptus oil. To her left, she could hear the sound of plasma escaping from a large rupture.

'The drive plasma is at least ten-thousand degrees kelvin,' she guesstimated. 'That level of thermal load will prevent the vegetation from igniting, but only for a limited and unpredictable period. Once a suitably large amount of vegetation has carbonized, the surrounding area will be cool enough to maintain ignition.'

Hopelessness seeped into Seven's being, they were in the middle of a one-hundred by five-hundred kilometre wooded area. 'There is nowhere for us to flee. No area will be safe. Resistance, is futile.'

"Okay Seven," The Captain sounded worse. "Almost ready to go. I just need to get you settled."

'If the trees adjacent to the leak were cut down.'

"I'm going to secure you to the sled now Seven."

'Prone on the ground, the fire would be inhibited by a lack of oxygen. Perhaps even partially smothered by smoke.'

"I'm making a quick release so that when you regain consciousness, you can get out as soon as possible. Just pull your hand out of the loop; then pull the whole thing until you're freed."

The instant the Captain's bare hand touched the borg's implant, she latched the data directly through her central control node:

**'Electrodermal activity depressed, Heart rate fifty-one bpm, Body temperature thirty-two degrees Celsius'.**

Seven's heart sank. Kathryn Janeway was going into shock.

"Just a few more seconds."

If she could regain functionality, stabilizing the Captain would not be difficult. Perhaps she could even secure the Delta Flyer.

"The terrain doesn't look all that rugged."

She only needed to affect quicker repairs.

"I'm confident we can get to minimum safe in time."

But there was no other organic system she could sacrifice. Even if she allowed cell death to some of her organs, it would not supply her implants with suitable energy to repair the transneuronal shock. Unless...

The borg's body lurched. "Here we go."

Seven considered her options. Her estimates suggested that she would awaken long before any resulting fire reached their position. She was already prone, therefor the explosion from the Delta Flyer would have a minimal effect. But the Captain was injured, and the borg was not entirely sure that she would regain consciousness before the woman exsanguinated.

Her second option. Begin shutting down implants. Her nanoprobes would have far fewer cross-links to repair, but it would result in damage she could not reverse in her semi-assimilated state. She would need to inject herself with assimilation nanoprobes the moment she awoke. Then, when it regenerated itself, physically tear out her interplexing beacon to avoid being reintegrated into the collective.

"We'll make it Seven, just relax, everything will be okay."

Despite the Captain's faults, she enjoyed her time with the woman, and during the short intervals when she was not preoccupied with the possible reactions of the crew, Seven would call their associations, pleasant.

"We're going to make it Seven."

_'... she refused to allow herself to contemplate the deficiencies in her mate ...'_

'No. I do contemplate the Captain's deficiencies, and I do not accept them. But I do accept the Captain. Kathryn Janeway does exist, my dream was in error.'

"But if you could wake up, give me a hand-"

'I will comply... Kathryn.'

**'Disconnect proximity node, terminate nanoprobe generation, deactivate optical implant, reduce cerebellar implant to minimum, reroute temporal implant, power down sub-processors, discontinue algorithmic stabilization'.**

"It'd-" A pause. "We'd have a much-" A pant. "Larger margin for error."

Seven pushed her implants harder:

**'Reduce power to neural oxygenation, limit repairs to parietal lobe cross-links'.**

Seven did not have time, the Captain was succumbing to blood loss. Then, she heard what sounded like a sniffle, a cry. Her Captain was crying...

"Seven. I don't think we're going to make it."

**'Deactivate repair to organic axons'.**

'We will Captain.' Though her brain would likely be partially atrophied.

The sled jerked forward. "I need you to wake up." It stopped again. "I need you to get up," the Captain was panting hard, "take the sled, and get the hell out of here, just leave me, not enough time."

Seven made a mental note to explain, in detail, why that request was the most illogical one the Captain had ever made.

The sound of a phaser firing flooded the borg's senses. Then another. And another. Five shots split the air before a low power alarm began to sound.

'No you short sighted insufficient human! I require the phasers.'

The feel of soft breasts dragging over her own, nearly sent Seven's mind into a spiral. At the same moment, and almost as if they had a mind of their own, the borg's fingers extended to prolong the contact.

Realization slammed into her thoughts, and she tried again. Again, her fingers moved. She tried her legs, they twitched. But when she attempted to speak, only a variation of breath left her barely parted lips.

More phaser fire, and the distinct sound of organic matter atomizing.

"Captain..." it came out as barely a whisper, but a sound nonetheless.

"Distress... Distress... Distress... Need... Assistance..."

"Captain," Seven tried again, "release me."

"Dis- tress..."

She struggled to remove her hand from the tie-down.

"Sorry Seven..."

Her eyes refused to open.

"I tried..."

She took hold of the locking knot and pulled.

The Captain slumped on top of her.

"Your timing Captain," Seven's sub-vocals cracked, "is as impeccable as always."

"I'm sorry Seven..."

"Be silent Captain, you do not have the energy." She brought her left hand up to her neck.

"I'm sorry..."

Seven's assimilation tubules tore into her jugular, recycling her nanoprobes back into her body, but with the intent of making her a drone. "And I do not currently have the patience."

"Sorry..." the Captain whispered once again.

"If I accept your apology," she pushed the woman over, "will you desist in repeating it?"

The discomfort of minerals and trace metals shifting throughout her body, was beyond unnerving. But Seven could feel the abilities she had once had in the collective, returning. That too was discomforting, but acceptable at the moment. The Doctor's poor facsimile of an optical implant however, would not reconnect, and an alternative was needed.

Blindly, she pawed around her legs, pushing aside drained phasers until her fingers touched what she was looking for. With her borg hand, Seven crushed the outer casing of a tricorder; then, injected it with nanoprobes. Next, she pulled her combadge off, held it against the base of her skull, then used her assimilation tubules to integrate it with her cerebellar implant.

It would take a few moments for her new optical implant to be ready to be fitted, but she did not have the time to simply wait around for it to complete. Instead, she used her limited human vision to dig through the Captain's supplies, until she found a med kit; then searched for rations. The medical supplies she set aside with a water pouch, the food she ripped open and swallowed dry.

The nutrient was like swallowing sand, and tasted only marginally better, but far greater than Neelix's usual offerings. Crewman Swift had once described the mess food as a good alternative to thermite gel. Seven did not fully comprehend the sentiment, but agreed with the overall negativity of it.

Shaking her head, the borg stifled the random thought before consuming as much water as she could. She had slowly become more distractible in the last few months, and it was, at times such as these, unacceptable.

She shook her head again, this time much more violently. "Your human influence on me Captain, can best be compared to a neurological virus." She picked up the still shifting scanner. "Mr Paris and Mr Kim however, I would consider a plague."

Seven popped her inorganic eyeball out of its socket with little reaction; then, held the mangled tricorder in its place. Within a few seconds, the two sets of circuitry connected, and the device painfully anchored itself into her skull. She was still partially blind, but in one minute fourteen seconds, she would regain functions she had missed since more than 80% of her implants were removed.

That could wait however, the Captain still needed tending to, so she clamped her implant hand around the other woman's wrist, slowly adjusting her grip until the reading was complete:

**'Electrodermal activity near zero, Hydrovascular pressure eighty-nine over sixty-one, Heart rate forty-five bpm, Body temperature thirty point nine degrees Celsius, absolute oxygenation ninety-three percent'.**

Seven could not wait the sixty-two seconds for her sight to return, the Captain's heart could cease beating before then. She felt over the med kit, located the hypo doses, and counted the ampules from the left to right side; then, she took what should be the correct medication, and injected a small amount into her hand for analysis.

**'Ninety-nine point nine, nine, nine, eight percent Tri-ox compound'.**

She pressed the hypo into the Captain’s neck, discarded the empty cylinder, and began counting again.

**'Recombinant erythropoietin, type O negative'.**

Another injection into the Captain. Then she took the intravenous bio-generator, connected the water pouch, set the controls to B negative, and clamped it to the Captain's arm. Again, she encircled the other woman's wrist:

**'Electrodermal activity near zero, Hydrovascular pressure eighty-two over sixty, Heart rate forty-four bpm, Body temperature thirty-one point two degrees Celsius, absolute oxygenation one hundred percent'.**

Her condition was not significantly improved, but it was also not continuing to deteriorate. Seven found that acceptable. For now. However, what was not acceptable was the copious number of blood droplets splattered all over herself, the Captain, the ground... everywhere the other woman had been.

Quickly, Seven found the source. A small section of a steel brace lodged in the Captain's arm.

"You are the most illogical being I have ever encountered," she berated the unconscious woman, fuming with growing anger. "I can assure you, as a former borg drone, that number is greater than you would predict."

She pushed the foreign body out of the woman's forearm, packed it with bio-mimetic gel impregnated gauze; then sealed the wound with a dermal regenerator.

"You may not have collapsed if you had treated yourself properly."

The Captain mumbled, but nothing she said was intelligible. However, that too was acceptable to Seven. As Lieutenant Torres often said of Mr Paris, Kathryn Janeway was far more appealing when silent.

With her task stabilizing the Captain complete, the borg turned her attention back to the Delta Flyer and the growing forest fire. Unfortunately, her hopes of rescuing the shuttle were no longer feasible, it was encircled by impenetrable flame. And she had no phaser power with which to cut the engulfed vegetation. Because the Captain had utilized them. Because she was insufficient.

**'Electrodermal activity high, Heart rate sixty-three bpm, Body temperature thirty-two degrees Celsius'.**

Seven spun around to see why her implant was suddenly registering bio signs, and felt her heart skip a beat at what she saw.

Captain Kathryn Janeway, cradling her hand against her face, gently kissing the bands of polytrinic alloy.

She watched in rapt fascination as the soft coral lips swelled slightly, but yield around the hard metal. The entirety of her body then shuddered, as warm moist breath bathed her organic tissue. And, when the Captain sighed in comfort, she felt the illogical need to detach her arm so not to disturb the woman.

Taking a deep breath, Seven attempted to gently ease her hand away, and protected her fragile emotional centre with well learned sarcasm. "Captain, you may continue to seduce me later. At the moment, and as soon as I am able to stand without immediately falling over, we will need to leave."

Then the Captain turned onto her side, sighed once again, and cuddled more aggressively to the borg's hand.

"I am defective. We are stranded, on the verge of death, and my thoughts are of copulation." Her mind turned to Lieutenant Torres, and the half Klingon's unintentional glut of self protective lessons. "I am defective, or, I am male."

The Captain smiled, and sniggered very lightly, shattering Seven of Nine's heart into an uncountable number of pieces, and forcing the borg to decide that no matter how angered Kathryn Janeway made her, she would always love her.

But anger was also useful, so Seven snatched her hand away. "Now is not the time. And you will only reject me later. Remain still. And remain quiet."

With ease, the borg manoeuvred the Captain onto the sled, But did not afford the woman the same courtesy of a quick release. Instead, she bound her tightly, forcing her to need to ask Seven for assistance when the time came to be freed. Then, she repacked their supplies, strapped them around the woman's legs, and attempted to stand.

She fell forward immediately, her systems obviously not fully operational. Despite this, she tried again, and managed to remain upright. She reached down to clamp the lanyard in her borg hand, took a step, and wobbled.

Examining her footwear, Seven decided that ease of travel far outweighed the comfort of her tendons, and kicked the shoes off. Her aim for the now useless Delta Flyer fell extremely short, but the ten meters they did travel, was somewhat satisfying.

She set off again, slowly gaining speed with every step.

The sounds of the shuttle's hull twisting and deforming under heat stress, pricked at the back of her neck, but she was managing a steady twenty kilometres per hour, and would easily reach a safe distance in three point eight seconds. Their first challenge of survival would soon be overcome. But other considerations were already flooding Seven's mind. Would they outpace the flames? Would her power reserves last until she could secure a source to replenish them? Would she be able to copulate at least once before she died?

All three answers were likely, an unfortunate no. They could not travel the one hundred kilometres to the forests edge before the fire. Her body would be power starved in eighteen hours. And she was too angry at the Captain to accept any offer of sex. Even if they were going to die.

The sound of tearing metal and screaming escaping gas pierced the air, causing Seven to react. She threw herself on top of the Captain before the sled even came to a stop, and covered the woman's face with her borg hand to shield it from debris. They had only managed to travel for one minute thirty-five seconds. It was not enough distance.

Seven's mind swam momentarily, the feel of the Captain's soft breasts against her own, the sensation of straddling Kathryn Janeway...

The borg forced her mind to analyze the myriad of data streaming in from her implants and senses. For a moment, it was successful, and she did not think of the position she was in. Until she noticed she was surreptitiously pressing herself harder into the Captain.

'I am not a hormone addled adolescent,' she chided herself, 'I am in control of my body.'

But then, the Captain turned her head, brushing soft skin against stiff collagen and hard metal, and slurred the borg's name into her ear. "Seven?"

The former drone's body shuddered in its entirety. Warm ripples radiated from the side of her face down her neck to her toes. Echos ran back over the same path, re-burning her nerve endings even as a new ripple descended.

"Seven?"

The vibrations from the other woman's voice made the borg's skin feel tight, the tightness spreading like a cascade. "Be silent Captain."

"Seven. Seven what's happening?"

"Because there is no deity." Her cheeks tingled, her hands stung. "Not what I wish." And her body felt far too warm.

Then all semblance of tranquillity fractured, and every molecule of air radiated the most violent sound, crushing everything in its path with overwhelming force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten a few comments regarding Seven's attitude. I wouldn't worry too much about Seven criticizing Janeway, who of us haven't felt like tearing our hair out because of a loved one. She's horny as hell, has been trapped alone with the source of those feelings for days, and has been listening to her complain endlessly for about as long.
> 
> But, there's more. When is there ever... er... not more (so poetic). I'm going to go out on the limb a little more than I usually do with all my interlaced meaning in titles and stuff, and give some huge hints:
> 
> First, the story's title's meaning is obvious, as is this chapter's title, but, the title of the last chapter has meaning as well, beyond what one might guess as being just a colloquialism. And, these two chapters are telling nearly identical stories.
> 
> Second, we see Seven's internal thoughts as dialogue, but not Janeway's. Janeway's thoughts are always explored in the narrative, while Seven speaks internally to herself, as well as having narrated thoughts, and, she also “hears” her implants.
> 
> Third, Seven is a binary thinker. To her, there's no grey area. Things are either acceptable, or insufficient, right, or wrong.
> 
> Fourth, right when Janeway's about to fail, Seven's state of mind briefly flips. She stops being so negative, she rejects her stress dream, and she confirms that she accepts Janeway. She also calls her Kathryn, the only time she does so while conscious. She's also responding to the situation, not just to Janeway's plea.
> 
> I also want to underpin something that happened at this point that even my betas might have missed: she says that she can't fix what she's doing to herself in her semi-assimilated state (which injecting herself wont fix, because drones need the collective to complete the process), she reduced oxygen to her brain, and slowed the repair of the links that interrogate it to her cybernetics.
> 
> Then, right when Janeway breaks down, and starts to cry (which we don't see in her prospective), Seven issues one lone directive. For those that don't know, axons are sort of like long stems that allow nerve cells to send signals to other cells. That's particularly important, because Seven was knocked out by a blow to the head. Twice. Janeway lost consciousness from centrifugal force (Good god I'm a nerd).
> 
> So, a little more insight to the story. Hopefully.


	4. Unacceptable Avenues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world begins to burn around them, Seven's universe falls and rebuilds, and Janeway can't be anything but herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Note: I'd like anyone who reads this story and likes it, to also thank my Beta Purpely, because, without her, I'd be so much harder to read. "Forget the lottery. Bet on yourself instead." ~Brian Koslow
> 
>  
> 
> Tori, you explain too much, I just want to read the story.
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter notes: Since I'm a total NERD, I'll explain some of the mechanics behind the multiple explosions Janeway and Seven experience. 
> 
> First here's a video of what a BLEVE(Boiling Liquid Expanding Vapor Explosion) is: http://youtu.be/sl-JgyQA7u0 . The ignited leakage from the deuterium tanks is what sets the trees on fire, but it's the flame from the trees which causes the tank itself to BLEVE. The series never mentions how much deuterium the Flyer actually carries, but based on the size of its tank relative to the size of the Flyer itself, it likely carries about 500kg.
> 
> If we then assume a 2/3 boil-off release before major breach, we're left with around 160kg. As a demonstration of the power of hydrogen, which deuterium is an isotope of, here's a video of someone "popping" hydrogen bubbles: https://youtu.be/TwolJ6Xh0K4 . Then assuming the BLEVE has a nominal consumption of its fuel, it would produce an explosion of about 2*10^10, or 25 tons of TNT, or, about 2 of these https://youtu.be/XrYDlkD2eWQ . BTW "pickle" means, "the ordinance is away".
> 
> The secondary explosion Janeway and Seven feel, are the torpedoes' warheads, the transporter pattern buffer, any trace anti-matter in the injectors, and any system which holds large quantities of energy for rapid use. Realistically, I have no idea what the magnitude of this explosion would be, but solely based on the warheads which are anti-matter based, and assuming all together they hold one kilo of it, the explosion would be 9 times that of the primary, so, 18 times the video.
> 
> The tertiary explosion, would be the metals the Flyer is made of physically vaporizing and igniting. This would be a far less energetic explosion, but still fairly large. If as little as 10% of the ship's metal actually ignites, and assuming duranium has similar properties to other real world metals, it'd still be equivalent to about 1kg of TNT.
> 
> As an example of what our unlucky heroines would have experienced, here's a video of the Tianjin Depot Explosion: https://youtu.be/cO1q3HwB0y0 . This video was taken within a kilometre of the explosion, Seven and Janeway would be much closer. Physically, they would be far enough away that they wouldn't die, but close enough that the shockwave would make them feel like they'd just fell backwards from an Olympic high diving platform. This is a much smaller blast, but a hell of a lot more disturbing, and, an example of just how powerful they can be: https://youtu.be/Ba8jTkRWiwI .
> 
> And yes, I am aware of the irony in the explanation being longer than the narrative. Like I said, Ima https://youtu.be/IRsPheErBj8?t=2s .

For a microsecond, the world was still, silent. The rustle of tree leaves trickled in the air. Somewhere distant animals called. The moment would have been high on anyone's list as serenely beautiful. But in an instant, the calm was split with an enormous crack, followed by tremendous thunder. Waves of oppressive heat trailed the cacophony, threatening to burn the airways of Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine.

Janeway found herself completely trapped, but also shielded by Seven's metal enhanced body. A borg alloy encased hand covered her face and ear, and a shoulder covered the rest. But the weight of the younger woman's protection did little to ease the painful shockwave biting at her skin.

"Seven." The Captain's voice was swallowed by the roar. "Seven what's happening?"

"Not what I wish," was the borg's even but harsh reply. "You must prepare yourself for the secondary explosion."

"What are you talking about! What's going-"

"The Delta Flyer's deuterium storage-"

Seven's interruption was itself silenced as the sky billowed in muted orange. Streaks of ignited particulate sliced the glowing clouds, the renewed and magnified rumble beat at their ears, and the needle sting of a compression front clawed at their bodies. Not soon enough, the world stilled once more, and the women began to relax, but in almost the same instant the tension completely drained from the moment, a new burst of violence ruptured reality.

Janeway looked around wildly, trying to gain some bearing, but could only see a troposphere on fire. "Report!"

"Do not speak!" the borg shouted back, and shifted her position to better cover Kathryn's face.

A moment later, the reduced pressure within their bubble of hell, collapsed, and nearly every atom which had just tore its way passed the two women, came screaming back. It wasn't nearly as intense as the initial blasts, but the compression front now held bits of debris and dirt. Pebbles, twigs, and clumps of vegetation collided into them with the strength of a low yield stun beam. The sky had turned completely and utterly dark, and the air clung to them like plasma. But they had survived.

And were now stranded.

"Seven," Janeway's weakened voice still boomed with command. "Report."

The borg sat up, straddling the Captain's hips. "Your desire to, 'save the day', caused the extensive but manageable damage to the Delta Flyer, to worsen. A leak to the Flyer's EPS grid ignited the surrounding trees, engulfing the shuttle in flame, which in turn caused the deuterium tanks to rupture."

Seven surveyed the area as she spoke, and catalogued the new situation: **'Shuttle obliterated, primary area of combustion extinguished, numerous scattered satellite ignitions, wreckage dispersed over a wide area, estimation of largest section of debris zero point four meters'**

"Is that a sufficient report Captain?"

Janeway stared through her daze for a moment, moderately shocked at the level of Seven's sarcasm. "Release me Seven."

"I will not comply. You remain substantially injured despite my repairs. If I release you, you will only hinder our progress, and our situation has deteriorated."

"Seven of Nine," Kathryn tried to inject as much whip into her voice as she possibly could. "I'm ordering you to release me this instant."

The borg stared down at the woman, contemplating their predicament. 'I am in a position of unlimited power over her, yet the Captain still believes I can be spoken to in a dominant manner.'

"Seven! You need to let me out, now!"

'Unproductive. I saved our lives, Kathryn nearly ended them.' She placed her hand gently on the Captain's shoulder. "I will not comply. I also believe you will be considerably more comfortable unconscious." Then squeezed.

The Vulcan neck pinch worked instantly, and the borg watched in fascination as Janeway's entire body relaxed. 'I am still uncertain why I respond in this way to the Captain. Perhaps I am inherently defective? Perhaps it is our closeness and my lack of experience?'

Seven's organic brain was compromised, and her borg support systems were severely inhibited, and she could feel the compulsions she normally kept securely in check, move to the forefront of her mind. But it was her mostly intact intellect which decided to give into her desires, and to later blame it on her malfunctions.

Slowly, as if Kathryn could awaken at the slightest disturbance, the borg leaned forward, and pressed her lips gently against the other woman's. It was less stimulating than she had assumed it would be, but not completely devoid of pleasure. The sensation of her lungs filling with Kathryn's exhale filled her with a minor giddiness, and the press of their breasts against one another, was moderately erotic.

However, it was only when Seven withdrew did she experience what she had expected. The smoke had cleared considerably, but still partially obstructed the planet's star, causing visible rays of sunlight to fall in broken patches. One such area fell across Kathryn’s face, shrouding her in both mysterious darkness, and luminescent glow.

'I am malfunctioning. Yet, I do not care.'

**'Thermal increase of eleven point two degrees, absolute humidity reduction of three grams per cubic meter, atmospheric pressure reduction of ten percent'**

Seven spun around, dismounting Janeway in the process, and searched the direction her implants gave the warning in. 'Unacceptable,' she cursed. In her distraction, she had allowed a spot fire to grow closer to their position.

Using her tricorder enhanced vision, the borg quickly scanned the area. They required shelter, not that it would be sufficient for long. Their probability of outrunning the fire was near zero, but taking cover in a cave would eventually lead to asphyxiation. Seven's implants would also fail in approximately eighteen hours, but in that time she may be able to adapt a breathing apparatus for Kathryn.

'Her survival is paramount.'

The landscape was unacceptably uniform, and no area offered protection, but then, a sharp density variance on the other side of a rise drew her attention. Likely, it was a hollow in the large mound. It was small, but their best, perhaps only opportunity for survival.

Seven re-wrapped the sled's tether around her implant hand; then began her steady run once again, but now, with a specific destination. It would not take long to traverse the distance, but with little else to do, it allowed her mind to wonder.

'Kathryn is incapable of treating me as an equal. I will always be a subordinate to her.' She jerked the tether hard as a wave of anger overwhelmed her emotion suppressor. 'Even if I were a member of her crew, it would not preclude equality on an interpersonal level. Does she believe I am incapable of compartmentalizing my feelings when it is required?'

'Perhaps it is the Captain who is incapable of compartmentalization,' she answered herself.

'Irrelevant, it is a skill an individual may learn. I was required to do so, Kathryn must as well.'

'Incorrect assumption, the Captain is emotionally vulnerable, and damaged. This is a factor in your attraction to her.'

Seven slowed somewhat, the implication of such a realization washing over her. 'I wish to be her protector.'

Was that not what she was doing now? Protecting the Captain? Had she incapacitated Kathryn so that she would be wholly reliant on her?

'No, I did so to facilitate efficiency. The Captain's injuries would have put us at risk of being unable to negotiate the thick foliage in time.'

The exertion was beginning to take its toll, and Seven was greatly relieved as they neared what thankfully appeared to be a large opening in the hill. But anxiety soon replaced it. Around the entrance was a rock formation, one which could not have naturally occurred. The level of technology required to construct such a stone frame was not great, but it still meant that this planet was inhabited by a sapient species which had developed to a point where they could pose a significant threat.

'The fire will no doubt attract attention.' She looked to Kathryn's mostly peaceful form. 'And we do not have weapons to defend ourselves.'

Unnecessarily mentally preparing, Seven moved into the cave slowly. It was dark, but thankfully devoid of vegetation. 'Or inhabitation,' she added internally.

The structure was approximately six by four metres with an overhead space of two metres. The ground appeared sandy, likely soil erosion which washed in during rainy periods. But peculiar to the borg, was the draft she could sense originating from the interior. Leaving Kathryn near the centre, she approached the far wall and held up her implant hand to a crack. It detected a small breeze emanating from it.

'Acceptable, Kathryn will not die from smoke inhalation.' But it left the borg open to a bigger question. Should she keep the Captain unconscious until after her demise, or allow her to awaken.

* * *

_Janeway found herself standing in the hallway again, the door looming at the far end. Damn it, she didn't need this. Why did her mind have to be so cryptic, why couldn't she just be aware of whatever was bothering her. Using the techniques Chakotay taught her, Kathryn steeled herself, visualized herself opening the door and seeing something on the other side. Then, opened it. But nearly woke herself at what she saw._

_Seven laying on a table in the centre of an assimilation chamber._

_The young woman's golden hair was gone, and half her skull was removed. Her hand had been cut off at the wrist, and her left eye socket was empty. Around them, drones shuffled about, attaching implants to people. To her crew. A large 'thing' then glided into the room and drifted over to Seven's body. A metal encased hand reached out to gently caress her cheek._

_"Get away from her!"_

_The creature stopped; then turned ominously slow toward her. Janeway's own face stared back, wrapped in pieces of Voyager, skin fused with hull plating, hands replaced by struts and ODN conduit._

 

Panic filled Janeway's body, arms trapped to her side, legs restrained. She needed out, she needed to move.

"Seven," she called out, "Seven where are you."

"I am here." But the young woman didn't come into view.

"Let me out of this." She continued to struggle against her bonds.

"Why did you inform me that you loved me one point eight seconds before impact."

Janeway immediately settled; then sighed. The young woman sounded angry. "Because Seven, while I might not always be able to be your friend, you'll always be my family."

The former borg's face crept into her view. "Explain."

It nearly broke Kathryn's heart at how vulnerable the other woman sounded, how lost. "You are my family Seven, and I love you as much as I love my mother or my sister. Sometimes I can't show it, but I trust you, and depend on you more than any other member of the crew."

For three point one seconds, Seven of Nine could not fully assimilate her emotions. Loss, disappointment, rejection, despair, isolation overwhelmed her. Her collective had collapsed, the meaning in her life dissolved. She was a broken drone, incomplete, adrift, singular.

'I am nothing,' the collective’s voice sang in her mind, an uncountable choir of her own voice echoing in her mind.

Then, all the sexual frustration which Seven's body had carried for what seemed like forever, evaporated, and with a single inhale of what felt to be the freshest of atmosphere, the borg's collective reassembled anew.

'Not perfection, but acceptable.'

"I am your sister?" she asked aloud.

"Yes Seven," Janeway tried to smile reassuringly up at the woman, but something in the former borg's posture kept it from reaching her eyes. "I couldn't imagine my life without you."

Seven's head tilted slightly; then a radiant smile blossomed on her face. "I will comply Kathryn." Her universe was now ordered, not perfect, not what she truly wished, but acceptable, sufficient.

The instant Janeway's hands were freed, she grasped the other woman's face, gently tracing the angry welts clinging to her new implants. "Seven what did you do to yourself?"

"Re-assimilation was necessary to facilitate your rescue. If I had not, you would have exsanguinated."

Legs freed, she moved toward their supplies, grabbed a tricorder, and tried to scan Seven's condition.

"It is acceptable."

"No it isn't Seven." Kathryn tossed the defective device hard against the ground. "It might have been necessary, but it was not acceptable." She took another scanner. "And if I find out there was an alternative." She threw that one away. "You'll envy Paris when he was stuck in the brig for a month."

The borg's smile returned, somewhat subdued, but filled with humour. "Your 'plan B' consumed the majority of our equipment of power." The smile grew a fraction. "Or perhaps it was your plan C Captain. It is difficult for me to properly categorize your strategies."

Janeway ignored the younger woman's quip as she scanned her with the working medical tricorder.

"Perhaps D? For dangerous. Or E? For entirely unadvised?"

"You're not humorous in any shape or form."

"I disagree."

"You would."

"Logical."

Janeway shook her head, sometimes Seven really jabbed at her buttons. But then, she remembered what she'd put her through before the anomaly. "I'm sorry for being irritating after we left the Vorlon."

"It was not unacceptable," the borg preempted. "Their behaviour caused you distress. You trust me sufficiently to vent your frustrations. I am pleased I could assist you in some small way."

"That is no excuse Seven, but thank you."

"You do not need to thank me Captain, I am here for you. For the time being at least."

Panic began to build in Janeway's chest as she spotted exactly what the other woman was referring to. "How long do we have?"

"Fourteen point two hours if I conserve my energy."

"Your portable regenerator?"

"An error on my part," Seven began. "I expected us to be aboard Voyager shortly, and as I possess an irrational hatred of the device, I neglected to recharge it."

Contingencies began to roll through Janeway's mind. "And I used up all our power cells."

"It was not entirely your fault Kathryn. You were becoming incapacitated and believed I would not awaken in time to aid our escape."

"What else did I do wrong?"

"You failed to purge the EPS grid by puncturing an isolator."

Janeway's face fell as her world hung heavily over her shoulders.

'Unacceptable. The Captain cannot blame herself.' Seven pushed the tricorder out of Kathryn's line of sight. "You were suffering from a concussion, injured, and experiencing blood loss. Your thought processes were greatly compromised causing you to not consider 'the greater picture', and focused solely on my rescue."

Kathryn's body sagged as her head hung lower.

"Thank you for rescuing me Captain, I greatly appreciate it." When the other woman showed no sign of improvement, the borg attempted another tactic. "I in turn saved you. However, as I am not a Starfleet officer, my required compensation is substantially more."

"Thermal electric generator?"

Seven felt her heart sink. "We do not possess the equipment necessary."

"Solar cell?"

"What we could fabricate would not be of sufficient size."

"EM collector?"

"We possess only one."

"Bio-electric syphon?"

"A technology I believe you just made up."

Janeway finally looked into Seven's eyes. "There has to be something, anything."

"We do not currently possess the resources Captain. I am sorry."

How in hell was Seven comforting her when Kathryn had put them in this situation. "Lie down, conserve your energy." She hung her head once more.

"I will comply."

Several minutes passed in silence while Janeway rifled through their supplies. There had to be a solution, there always was. She was just missing something, some combination of their technology, something in the environment. Somehow they could produce the energy they needed, she just needed to find the key, the universe would not leave them with nothing.

"Captain." Seven determined that now was the correct time to attempt to distract the other woman from her negativity. "Have you and Commander Chakotay copulated?"

"What!?" She looked up in shock in indignance.

"The crew has speculated on this possible fact on numerous occasions."

"They do not."

"I assure you Captain, they do."

Janeway's dander went stratospheric. "It is in no way appropriate for a crew to speculate on their Captain's non-existent sex life."

"Non-existent? Then we were mistaken in regards to the nature of your interaction with the hologram Micheal Sullivan?"

Flabbergasted, Kathryn only stared.

"You should be aware Captain, I hold no bias regarding such utilization of the holodeck. If not for such a function, I would not find a use for it outside our interactions."

"Wait? What!?" Then it dawned on her, and she felt her stomach go zero-g. "I'd rather not discus that Seven."

"Why?"

"Seven, I really do appreciate you trying to distract me, but please, could we avoid such subjects."

"But you are so easily perturbed by them?"

Kathryn didn't think Seven had meant it as a question, but it just gave more evidence that the universe might lose a truly unique being.

"Captain?"

"Yes Seven."

"Thank you for my individuality."

Janeway felt tears gathering at her eyes. "Voyager should arrive soon. The energy wave was large enough to show up on long-range sensors."

"I agree," Seven replied, though she did not.

"And we still might be able to augment something here to get you through the interim."

"You are correct, I believe we will as well."

Frustration and anger leached its way into Janeway's body. "Stop it Seven."

"Captain?"

"Just stop. Stop placating me, stop comforting me, stop humouring me. Just stop."

"I cannot comply. You are my collective, *my* family, and I will do whatever is in my abilities to assure my collective's harmonious function."

Janeway set aside their equipment and took Seven's hand. "We'll make it through this."

"Yes Captain, we always do."

Then, for the first time since being ripped from the alpha quadrant, Kathryn let her tears fall without restriction.


	5. Out of Character

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven and Janeway have found a relatively safe harbour from the raging fire their crash accidentally started. But the galaxy, has other ways to fry up our Starfleet Captain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Note: I might be the Captain of this ship (I soh phun-e), but Purpely is my navigator. Without her, the story would be barely readable. Nerds are just deep, and neurotic, fans. Needy fans. We're all nerds, on one subject or another. ~Jonathan Lethem

_Kathryn was dreaming again, and again, she walked through the door. But damn, if lucid dreaming wasn't a two way street. The voyager-borged Janeway had been waiting for her, newly re-assimilated Seven slightly behind, her bridge crew still prone on tables._

_Kathryn approached them, standing tall, and utterly unafraid of her own psyche. 'I know damn well what all this is supposed to mean.' When the Collected said nothing, she continued. 'It's a little pathetic don't you think? Something right out of a painting Phoebe might make if she thought I needed humbling?'_

_' **Humility is irrelevant, Phoebe is irrelevant,** ' the Collected droned._

_'Yes, yes, very predictable. Next you'll tell me that Voyager is the only thing that is relevant. Except, I'm well aware that voyager is not just a ship, it's a crew. *My* crew. And I care about each and every one of them.'_

_' **Care is irrelevant-** '_

_'All that matters is the mission,' Janeway interrupted. 'Spare me. I've been through all this before, so, let's just skip to the part where I realize what's bothering me.'_

_They said nothing._

_'I'm upset about what's happening to Seven, but that's too easy an answer, and, she or I will think of something. So out with it.'_

_' **Seven is irrelevant.** '_

_'The hell she's not,' Kathryn jabbed a finger at her doppelganger. 'Seven's very relevant. She's just as important as any member of my crew. And on a personal level, she's the most important individual to me on Voyager. I've admitted that, I *can* admit that precisely because I've been here before. And I know I won't lose her. Once we start getting desperate enough, something radical will present itself, and we'll be able to hang on until Voyager arrives.'_

_' **Admission is irrelevant, loss is irrelevant.** '_

_Janeway pinched the bridge of her nose. 'This is about as productive as trying to have a conversation with the real collective.' She took a deep, cleansing breath, but when she opened her eyes, she was back home, in Indiana._

_'Kathryn! Kathryn you finally made it.'_

_She turned to see her mother bounding out of the house._

_'How was your trip in dear? Was it uneventful? Seven's already arrived.' The eldest Janeway grabbed her daughter's hand. 'Come on.'_

_Kathryn let herself be dragged into her childhood home and into the kitchen. There, Seven stood, hands held passively behind her back, face devoid of implants, and wearing a Starfleet uniform with Captain's pips on the collar._

_'Admiral.' The younger Woman nodded respectfully. 'I'm pleased you could make it.'_

 

Janeway's head lolled sideways against her tunic pillow, the analgesics having worn off during her short sleep. It made her brain feel two sizes too big, and her intellect two too small. Every ache and pain she'd been able to ignore prior to her forced torpor, came screaming to life. Seven was still resting beside her, and still in the exact same position she was before guilting Kathryn into attempting sleep. The ex-borg had forced her to lay down, citing the younger woman's current state as being more susceptible to anxiety, and therefore, energy expenditures. It was a lie of course, one to get Janeway to relax. But, it worked. A few minutes of laying next to Seven, and she went out like a light.

This new version of her dream had been *different* though. Seven had apparently achieved everything Kathryn could ever hope for her, or everything she had aspired for on the ex-borg's behalf. How was that a nightmare? Or, apparently, something to be bothered by? It should be something to celebrate, which is what she assumed they would have been preparing to do. Yet, her mind goes from the low hanging fruit of being assimilated by Voyager, to Seven being completely human with a captain's commission. It just didn't make any damn sense. Hell, being an Admiral, Kathryn could have made absolutely sure the other Woman got a flagship.

"Seven?" She ignored the dream, and moved on to more pressing matters. "How do you feel?"

"I have not yet deteriorated. Nine hours twenty-eight minutes," the borg preempted with her time to expiry.

"Have you thought of anything?'

"Unfortunately not."

Janeway sighed as she sat up, sheltering her injured arm slightly while she tried to shake off the stiffness of sleeping on the ground. "I was thinking. Maybe we could rig something to filter out the nutrients in my body, and inject them into your's."

Seven did nothing but turn her head to regard the Captain, yet still managed to make it look wholly sarcastic.

Kathryn pinched the bridge of her nose. "Your implants can convert bio-matter to phased EM energy for you to use, but, you can't eat. I can eat for you Seven. We can separate plasma, blood cells, what-have-you, from glucose, lipids, and the other chemicals that'd be useful to you."

"You are serious..."

"Damn it Seven, yes, *I am serious*."

The ex-drone turned back to the ceiling, attempting to suppress the anger surging over her damaged interlinks. 'She is becoming irrational. Her solution will diminish us both. I will be unable to dissuade her.'

"It will be of limited success," Seven finally said aloud.

"How limited?"

'She is attempting to negotiate the inevitable. Preparing to accept the unacceptable.'

"It may be possible to keep my cybernetics operational at an extreme inhibited level for several days. However, you will not be able to consume sufficient nutrients to satisfy your own biological needs while servicing mine."

"Let me worry about my own biology," Janeway dismissed.

'Unacceptable. She continues to come to decisions without my contribution. She is attempting to remain the centre of our collective. This is however, unsurprising.' Seven came to her own decision; then turn to the Captain once again. "I will not comply. Your biology is of importance to me. I would not be an acceptable sister otherwise."

Kathryn felt her stomach clench. "I'll lose a few kilos, that's all. A minor inconvenience to me, but a huge benefit to you."

"It will consume food resources we do not have."

"This isn't a debate Seven. So unless you have another viable option?"

'I do not,' "euthanasia?"

Squeezing her forehead in her palm, Janeway counted to ten. "That was not humorous in the least."

"I believe it was." Seven gave a tiny smirk, her attempts at distracting the Captain succeeding.

Kathryn ignored the other woman's antics. "How long do you think the fire out there will burn?"

"Unknown. If we required a slow reacting hydro-carbon, the oil produced by the foliage would be an excellent source."

"I guess I wouldn't be able to eat them then."

"That would be unwise. However, my implants did determine that the grass was non-toxic."

"Hum," Janeway snorted derisively, "just call me captain billy-goat.

"Very well Capt-"

"Don't. Even."

Seven's entire face shone with delight. "You would deny a dying being's request?"

"I would."

"Insightful."

Kathryn rolled her eyes while dragging their supplies over. "You know, we might not have to be too careful with the filtering process."

"Explain."

"You and I have the same blood type."

"We do?" Seven accessed her collective memories. "We do." Then nodded unnecessarily. "You plan on stimulating red blood cell production in your own body?"

"Yes. Your nanoprobes can use the bio-machinery they contain more efficiently."

"Would that not be cannibalism?"

Kathryn looked up at the corner of the cave, and counted to ten once more. "No Seven, it would be vampirism."

"Acceptable. I could confirm Mr Paris, Mr Kim, and Lieutenant Torres' assertion that I do indeed leech on you."

"Seven, if you don't stop with the bad jokes, I'll dermal regenerate your mouth closed."

'Kathryn is becoming irritated. Easily frustrated. Partial success.' "Indeed?"

The ex-borg seemed to be in a good mood, which was a small miracle in Janeway's opinion. If Seven was being as testy as she had been during the Vorlon mission, Kathryn would've lost her mind. She hoped that it would continue, because, realistically, she didn't think she'd be able to handle the younger woman's possible fate while fighting with her.

However, it was obvious to both of them that the "nutrient" transfusion was just a stop-gap, a means to get Seven through a couple of days. It might be all they'd need till Voyager picked them up. But Janeway had to admit, it wasn't very likely. The wave-front would've caused a local temporal shift, and possibly carried them for dozens of light-years. She knew her crew would easily track the Flyer's signature, but what would be the ship's travel time, how long would it take them to figure out that they wouldn't be making the rendezvous? And worse, what if they contacted the Vorlon, and the damnable cryptic aliens wasted their precious time? Those were all variables Kathryn simply couldn't account for. Something more permanent needed to present itself.

As if a something answered her silent request, the sound of repetitive 'thwaps' breaking the air interrupted her thoughts. "Seven, what's that?"

"I am uncertain," she answered somewhat offhandedly, her focus drawn to the fractal patterns if the cave's walls. "Some form of air craft the borg are not familiar with."

"A helicopter." Janeway leapt to her feet and ran to the entrance. "It's a helicopter."

'It is a primitive vessel requiring atmospheric fluid dynamics to operate,' the young woman dismissed internally. "I have been tracking numerous transmissions within the one metre EM band. Some emanating from crafts such as you hear now. I have also been able to decipher a peculiar dual transmission pattern which causes intentional interference, which in turn carries information."

"You can understand their radio traffic?"

"I cannot. I can only monitor their transmissions. Some frequencies carry vocal communications, others carry binary data packets."

Kathryn turned to look Seven in the eyes, wild hope smouldering just behind her grey irises. "If they have basic aircraft, they have basic power generation capabilities."

"Yes?" The borg did not understand the Captain's point. 'They may also posses Juke-devices and internal combustion vehicles.' "I believe that they are either searching the area, or attempting to extinguish the fire. The latter is more likely as I have ascertained that many of their flight paths take them over bodies of water."

"Can you get their attention?"

Seven's mind went blank for a moment as she watched Janeway began to awkwardly sorting their supplies. "I cannot communicate directly with 'them' if that is what you require."

"I just need you to send a signal that'll be noticed."

"To what end?"

Kathryn stopped what she was doing, and tried not to snap at the other Woman. "So that they'll come and investigate."

A pain lased its way along the borg's corpus callosum. "Why?"

"Can you do it Seven, yes or no."

"Yes. Why?"

"Because Seven," Janeway took a calming breath. "If they can generate electricity, we can adapt their energy output to recharge your portable regenerator."

'Unacceptable.' The borg felt herself physically flinch. "Would that not be dangerous on multiple levels? These beings could be hostile. It is a violation of the Prime Directive. They could mistakenly attract the attention of the borg-"

"You're right Seven," Kathryn interrupted. "But I can mitigate all that. And besides, we have more pressing matters."

"My impending non-function."

"To put it bluntly, yes."

"Captain," Seven was incensed. "You have spoken many times of the value of Starfleet protocols, and of non-interference in general. Yet you wish to breach these ideals to save one individual?"

"I can't believe you're trying to argue with me."

Heat flared over the borg's temples. "You risked the entire ship by refusing to allow me to transport a member of species 8472 to a hirogen vessel, and isolated me to the cargo bay for disagreeing with *you*. You wished to abandon your own life to protect the aliens in the void from the Malon-"

"I'm well aware of my command decisions Seven of Nine."

"Yet now you wish to make a decision contrary to all previous ones?"

"Would you rather die?"

"I *would* not," Seven's voice was very nearly a yell, but inside, her harmonious chorus was paralysed.

"Then what the hell do you suggest!?" Janeway's chest heaved with emotion.

"I do not have a viable alternative at this time!"

"Then send the god damn signal."

"I will comply," the borg's volume was quite raised, a mild buzzing stinging behind her right eye.

Seven closed her eyes, both to recalibrate her assimilated combadge, and to bring her rampant emotions under control before continuing. "I will integrate this new data immediately Captain."

Kathryn stared daggers at the other Woman. "What the hell is that supposed to mean."

'The Captain renders judgement on others she believes has violated her morality, while she herself is judged by no one.' "I may not comply with your contradictory instructions in the future."

That was the last straw, Janeway just could *not* stand there listening to the other Woman's accusational and contrary attitude, and shut her out of her mind. She ignored the ex-borg's very presence as she continued to sort through their equipment, stuffing some back into their packs, while putting others aside. Who the hell did Seven think she was? Kathryn was trying to save her life, trying to come up with some damned options, and all the other woman could do was argue about it. How about Seven just trusted her for once in their damn lives!?

The moment the thought entered her mind, Kathryn knew it wasn't fair, Seven did trust her, almost implicitly so. It was just having the decision to go against almost everything she'd been taught, thrown back at her. Janeway had already done so much in the Delta quadrant that should be questioned, but probably wouldn't. She fought herself, Chakotay, and Tuvok, she didn't want to have to argue with Seven too, and definitely *not* about saving the young Woman's life.

"I apologize Captain-"; "I'm sorry Seven-", they said at once.

An awkward silence hung between them for a moment, but the guilt which had built and spurred Seven into seeking forgiveness, broke once more to dissolve the uncomfortable tension.

"I am an individual, and I value my freedom. However, I will comply with your instructions when I am able to."

"I know you will Seven, I trust you more than anyone else."

'An exaggeration.' "More than Tuvok?"

Kathryn gave the ex-borg a lopsided smirk. "Yes Seven, more than Tuvok."

"And Chakotay?"

A deep laugh bellowed from Janeway's chest. "I trust Chakotay to be Chakotay. Now, does that mean I'd put my life in his hands? In a fire fight? Probably. To make medical decisions on my behalf? Absolutely not."

'The Commander can never be a contender for Kathryn's trust.' "I also trust you Kathryn."

"Good." Janeway nodded mindlessly, staring off into space. "Sometimes I forget..."

Seven's damaged brow lifted. "Forget?"

"What it's like to have friends. Every hour of every day I'm the Captain. I can't even take a bath without thinking about the ship and crew, what's on the other side of the next nebula, or where the borg are today..."

"The borg is approximately zero point nine meters to your left."

Kathryn shook her head slightly, snapping out of her daze. Then, she rolled her eyes. "Seven, who *are* you modelling your humour after?"

"Is it of importance?"

"You don't want to tell me..."

'Correct.' Seven sat up to regard her Captain more directly. "I believe you may not like the answer."

"I promise I won't get upset." Janeway covered her heart and raised her right hand.

'I suspect that is a promise which will not outlive my reply.' "Phoebe Janeway."

"Phoebe...."

"Yes. My Aunt contacted your mother when I did not answer her letter. In return, she contacted me to enquire as to why. However, Gretchen Janeway has also been in contact with a majority of the crews' family, as well as a number of the crew themselves. Phoebe on the other hand, contacted me with the sole intention of monitoring you."

"And you decided to emulate her humour?" Kathryn continued to stare dumbfounded.

"Yes, I find her entertaining. She has informed me however, that I remind her a great deal of my cousin Ava."

"Mom mentioned you had cousins..."

"Indeed? I have had limited correspondence with Gretchen. She has informed me that you become agitated when she forms friendships with your friends."

"I do *not*," Kathryn defended.

"I have no basis to form an opinion."

"Well, I don't, so form an opinion on that."

"Very well," Seven smiled. Though her initial goal was now moot, she continued her campaign of irritation. "Captain Katie."

Janeway stuck her finger at the ex-borg's face. "Do *not* call me that."

"As you wish." Seven shifted positions as she watched the Captain continue with the equipment. 'Her movements are slowed. If she were attacked, she would not survive.' "I do not understand one aspect of our interactions however. In the limited correspondence I receive from Gretchen, she frequently asks me as to your health and well-being, however, Phoebe has never enquired."

"What do you tell her?"

The borg broke out into a full smile that did not fully form on her face. "Gretchen indicated that would be your first question, and partial evidence of your discomfort."

"I'm not discomforted Seven." Kathryn shoved a data pad into a backpack much harder than was absolutely necessary.

'The Captain cannot resist,' the borg tilted her head to the side.

"So, what *do* you tell her?"

"That you are under moderately high levels of stress, but handle your responsibilities adequately."

"Has she said anything in return."

"That she worries about you, and wishes you would eat more regularly."

"Damn it." Janeway sat back against the cave wall. "She must have spoken to the Doctor. He's got me on a damn diet so strict, that if I miss even one calorie, I lose my coffee rations."

"An inhumane punishment," Seven deadpanned.

"Agreed."

'Predictable.' Despite her other thoughts, the borg nearly grinned.

"But make no mistake, Phoebe's interrogating you. She has a talent for getting people to reveal things."

"Her questions to me regarding yourself are pointed and usually only last a paragraph."

"Seven," Kathryn regarded the other Woman with a dull look. "If Phoebe asks you what you had for breakfast, she's figuring out what you had for dinner the night before."

"Indeed?"

"Yes Seven, she's a master manipulator. If she was evil, or a Q, the whole galaxy would be at risk."

"I will attempt to assimilate this information for the future."

Kathryn moved the packs to the mouth of the cave, stood a few feet back, and took aim with a tactical phaser.

"Captain," Seven forestalled the other Woman. "What are you doing?"

"Limiting the technology the inhabitants are exposed to." then she fired, vaporizing a large portion of their supplies.

"There is one source of advanced technology you cannot limit their access to."

"I have a plan about that." Janeway took a power cell from the tactical phaser, placed it into a palm one; then vaporized the larger weapon.

"It may not be sufficient."

Kathryn then set the hand phaser to overload, and tossed it out into the forest. "It'll have to be. Besides, without a guide, they wouldn't have a clue how to reverse engineer borg technology. Our best hope is to offer them things they're on the verge of discovering themselves."

"Not an entirely unacceptable plan," Seven allowed. 'Yet, as reckless as others.'

"So glad you approve."

"There is no need for sarcasm Kathryn."

"You're right," Janeway paused for a moment. "I'm sorry Seven, like I said, I'm not used to relating to someone on a friendship level."

"Your apology is accepted. However, I find one major flaw in your plan."

"How do we make them understand that we intend to remain passive and cooperative, without having our heads blown off?"

The borg moved to help the Captain repack the supplies now deemed safe. Which, amounted to mostly rations, basic medical supplies, and her regenerator. "Correct. However, it may be difficult to do so if we cannot communicate with them."

Kathryn lifted the single remaining data pad. "We'll use this."

Seven examined the display. 'A self-sustaining fusion generator. Simple design. Easily achieved with technology equivalent to earth's twentieth century.' "You are hoping they will examine and understand this schematic, and deem us useful before they conduct vivisections?"

"They'll want to interrogate us first. Vivisection will come when we run out of usefulness. At least, that's the worst case scenario."

"I foresee much worse scenarios with equal likelihoods of occurring."

"And those would be?" Janeway placed the finished pack off to the side where it wouldn't be trampled or damaged.

"They bludgeon us to death, accidentally begin an assimilation process of their population, attract the borg, and mistakenly cause the destruction of Voyager."

Kathryn stared dead eyed at Seven. "Remind me to strategize with you when I don't have as high confidence on a plan."

The sound of multiple helicopter whirls put an end to their gentle bickering. Soon they'd have their answer, and Janeway would know if she saved Seven's life. Or killed them both.

"I believe." The borg hesitated, fear churning in the pit of her stomach. 'I am not afraid of death. But I do not wish to be the harbinger of this civilization to the collective.' "I believe I would value your instructions at this juncture Kathryn."

"Don't do anything aggressive. Don't defend yourself in any way. And above all, give them any information you think they want."

'Not a tactically advantageous plan.' "I may be able to control a limited number of them through assimilation." 'You survival is necessary.'

Kathryn swallowed hard, and put herself between the cave's opening and Seven. "Put that idea in orbit. We'll land it if we have to."

"I will comply."

Several large dumps of water fell on the trees directly in front of them, followed by something reddish and clinging. Then dust and leaves began to be kicked up by rotor wash. There was no turning back, no defending themselves. Seven had a little over nine hours to live, which meant Janeway had less than that to convince a bunch of aliens to let her save the ex-borg. And the thoughts of what she was willing to do to accomplish that, scared the wits out of her.

Several harpoons hit the ground, and a black armour clad bipedal humanoid slid down each of them. They looked menacing, their weapons were raised, and the outlook did not seem promising.

"I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the federation starship Voyager." She held up her hands. "We crashed landed due to a failure in our daughter ship, and we didn't mean for the fire. Our intentions are peaceful. We need medical attention. We're willing to trade for safe harbour and limited access to your resources."

Janeway waited, completely still.

"They are communicating with EM signals."

"Shh," she admonished the borg, but didn't get a chance to say anything more, as the smallest of the humanoids moved faster than she could see, and smashed the butt of their rifle into her head. Seven's cry of her name was the last thing she heard before blackness enveloped her.

**Author's Note:**

> Super amazing end notes where I grovel and try to bate you into enraging with me extravaganza!!!!
> 
> *cought* At least I'm honest, and... maybe a little bit funny? Kinda? Bleh, I'm lame, I know it.
> 
> So, Janeway and Seven seem to have jumped out of the fire and into the frying pan. And who knows what a bunch of technologically underdeveloped bipeds'll do. Maybe they'll do something to Seven and bring the borg down around their ears. Or, maybe, Q saves the day! No, no, I'm just kidding, Q'd watch, maybe even make it worse. I donno, what do you all think?
> 
> But hey, what about Janeway breaking the prime directive to save Seven? At first, I thought Seven was going to do it and disobey Janeway, but then, the Captain did it herself. I wonder what else she'd be willing to do for Seven...


End file.
